


Devil in a Corner Office

by mylifeisloki



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, NewBoss!NatAU, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 13:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2652905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylifeisloki/pseuds/mylifeisloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: One night stand before the first day of your new job and oops, that was your new boss you were sleeping with AU.  Poor Steve doesn't know what he's walking into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Devil in a Corner Office

There were many people who would say that Steve discovered how unfair life was when he was very young. His childhood had been a hard one: poverty, sickness, an abusive dick for a father, beat downs in every alleyway and behind every building because he had a big mouth, orphaned at seventeen. With that said, he’d always tried to keep his spirits up and remained an optimist through most of it. Like everyone else, he had his off days, but Steve really liked to consider himself someone with a positive outlook on life.

He considered his turning point the massive growth spurt he hit right after he fought tooth and nail to get into art school like he’d always wanted to. Steve wasn’t one to pat himself on the back or expect praise from others, but he was proud of the fact that he maintained a healthy lifestyle now, and that he’d worked very hard to have a steady income and a decent apartment to live in. He was doing _okay_ and that was really all he ever wanted. Of course, it definitely helped that he’d grown several inches and managed to get his various ailments in check.

Three years into a four-year program studying fine arts and portraiture, along with a minor in graphic design, Steve’s job at a local art supply store let him go. All of a sudden, it was imperative that he focused on finding another one because the shitty savings account he’d built up wouldn’t keep him going for very long and he had to pay tuition for the next term in just a couple of months, not to mention the supplies and books he needed.

Four interviews and two weeks of suffering later, he was offered a job as a personal assistant at a law firm working right under one of their most prestigious partners. That was all he was told. Considering the salary and benefits package they were offering him, he wasn’t obliged to ask too many questions about his new boss. Of course, the questions directed at him had been way more pressing, and had ranged from how often he went out on a personal level to how well he took orders, but he was alright with that. Being something of a people-pleaser, Steve considered himself perfectly able to handle whatever this new boss was going to throw at him. That is, until he was contacted by the woman who was _leaving_ the position.

“Don’t do it,” she warned him. “I’m telling you. It seems like this great job. The money’s amazing, you get all this paid vacation and perks and stock options and this great desk, but it’s not worth it. Run, while you still can.”

Needless to say, Steve was left staring at the phone for a few seconds after that as he wondered whether or not to believe her. After all, she could just be bitter that they were letting her go… Right? Okay, maybe not. He was so nervous by the time the night before came that he did something totally out of character and headed into the city for a drink and maybe some innocent flirtation- on someone else’s part, considering his own flirting skills were kind of pathetic.

The bar was close to Wall Street- a relatively casual place with low lighting and any number of stockbrokers milling about trying to get laid. Steve sat at the bar in jeans and a beaten up leather jacket, more than happy to just enjoy the whiskey he was nursing and return the smiles pretty girls sent his way. It wasn’t until two whiskeys in that he spotted someone he couldn’t look away from- a woman seated opposite him with blood red nails and bold lipstick, both matching the shade of her hair, which was pin straight and hanging down to her shoulders. Offering her a smile, he decided… well, what the hell? He wasn’t getting any younger.

Whiskey in hand, he slid off his barstool and headed over to her, sitting down beside her once she’d nodded to let him know it was okay. “Can I buy you a drink?” The woman turned to look at him and Steve decided that green eyes were his new favorite things.

“That depends,” she answered, toying with the glass in front of her, remnants of red wine at the bottom. “Is this a ploy to get me to come home with you?”

Startled by how direct she was, Steve hesitated for a moment before chuckling nervously. “No, ma’am,” he said honestly. “But, uh… I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t be a damn good way to end the night.”

She liked that. He could tell because the corners of her lips curled up a bit and she considered him with a little more warmth than before. “Merlot.” Steve snapped to attention the moment he realized she was talking about her drink and tapped the bar, asking the man behind it for another glass for the woman—who still hadn’t told him her name.

“I’m Steve,” he offered, already fascinated. “Do I get to know your name too?”

Accepting her newly filled glass from the bartender, the redhead let out a very quiet laugh and lifted the glass to her lips. “Well, you do need to know what you should be moaning later tonight.”

Long story short, it was one of the best nights of Steve’s life. Natasha was like this unstoppable force once they’d left the bar, letting him know exactly what she wanted without the slightest bit of hesitation—and he gave it to her willingly. By the time they passed out in a sweaty heap in his bed, Steve had scratch marks up and down his chest and his arms, and he was pretty sure she’d kissed and bitten at his lips to the point where they would be swollen the next day. What a great first impression he would make. No, it was likely that no one would even notice, but Steve did lament not getting to sleep until quite late because he knew he’d be tired the next morning.

When he woke up to find Natasha gone, it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Something told him that the fiery woman he’d had the pleasure of spending the night with wasn’t the type to fall in love with some idiot at a bar. The whole point of a one-night stand was to have sex and move on. Once he’d showered and shaved, Steve set about pulling on his best suit. He knew he’d have to get a better wardrobe if he wanted to fit in at his new job, but for now… he’d have to deal with what he had. It was a little snug, to be honest. It had been a long time since Steve last wore his black suit. Moving past it, he paired the suit with a sharp, white button down and a blue tie, checking his reflection (slightly reddened lips still prominent to his own eyes) once more before heading out and arriving at the law firm right on time.

“Hi,” he greeted the receptionist when he’d gotten to the top floor. “I’m Steve Rogers? I’m supposed to start today—“ The girl cut him off and pointed to her right. “That way, turn to the left, all the way down. You can’t miss it.”

Steve blinked. Okay. “Thank you,” he said anyway, following her directions and pretending that no one was staring at him as he made his way down the hall. When he arrived at the empty desk in front of a huge, corner office, he realized that she was right. He knew. This was where he was supposed to be.

Setting his messenger bag down under what would be his desk, he straightened his shoulders and knocked on the door. He just kept telling himself that he was one hundred percent ready to meet his new boss and be everything he or she needed their personal assistant to be.

He was ready, until he heard a voice telling him to come in and pushed the door open.

There, sitting behind a sleek desk with her chin in her hand, was Natasha. Steve was pretty sure his balls crawled back up into his body because this? This was not a good thing. This was so bad. Was he dreaming? Maybe he hadn’t gotten up that morning and was actually still in bed. As his eyebrows raised and his lips formed a little ‘o’ in shock, Steve watched Natasha give him a rather bored look considering she’d ridden him the night before. How was she so calm about this?!

“You’re—“ Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. No. “You’re my new boss?”

The smile he got in return was familiar now- dangerous and a clear warning that he should not even attempt to fuck with her. Natasha looked him up and down before standing up and moving around the desk so she could sit on the edge, gesturing for Steve to sit in one of the chairs in front of her. He complied, and he did so very quickly because it felt like his legs were shaking a little bit.

“So you’re the new hire,” she said smoothly, crossing her arms under her chest. Natasha wasn’t dressed _anything_ like she had been the night before, trading in an impossibly tight dress for—an impossibly tight pencil skirt and a blouse, paired with a thin belt around her waist. “My name is Natasha Romanov. I graduated at the top of my class at Harvard Law, and I have the most successful closed cases in the company. I focus primarily on criminal cases, mostly domestic violence, rape and sexual assault, child abuse, and stalking. I take pro-bono cases when I feel the cause is worthy. Your position as my personal assistant means that you will be in contact with many of my clients to schedule appointments, give them reminders, even drive them to court if necessary. You will also screen all phone calls from potential clients and it’s essential that you treat them with the respect and patience they deserve. Do you think you’re capable of that?”

Finally given the chance to speak, Steve cleared his throat and nodded. “Of course,” he answered confidently. “I try to give respect and patience to everyone I speak to.”

Natasha nodded. “Rules for the job are as follows,” she continued. “You need to appear professional at all times. That suit you have on is about a size too small and several years out of style. I suggest you remedy that immediately.” God, she was really severe. “You will arrive every morning by nine and you will not have a break until lunch. After that, there will be no breaks until you leave at five. This is not the kind of job that affords time for chatting up the pretty girls who might wander by, or time to go out for coffee and a donut in the middle of the afternoon.”

She moved again, going back around her desk and sitting down to face him dead on. “You will be on call in the early mornings, and at night. I’ll try not to bother you on the weekends, but I’m not making any promises. Do you have a car?”

Snapping out of it again, Steve shook his head. “I have a bike,” he explained. “A motorcycle. That’s all.” Who needed a car in New York City? Other than people like Natasha, who had probably cringed at the conditions in the shitty cab they’d shared the night before. Fuck. “Is that a problem?”

Sighing impatiently, Natasha tapped her nails on the hard surface of her desk and Steve had this sudden flashback to those nails raking down his chest. The marks were still there. He could practically feel them. “We’ll get you access to a company car,” she explained. “You’ll need to drive me to any appointments where I might need you to be there with me.”

So he was a chauffeur too? Steve opened his mouth to ask a question, but she cut him off. “Now, before I give you your first assignment and send you off, is there anything else you need to know?”

Um, yeah. Steve wanted to know what a criminal lawyer was doing picking up random men in a seedy bar! Not that there was anything wrong with that, but… He sighed. “Look, I think we should talk about the pink elephant in the room,” he tried. “I mean, I obviously didn’t know that it was _you_ I was coming to work for today, and…”

Again, she stopped him. “Is it going to be a problem for you?”

He frowned in confusion and she rolled her eyes.

“Is the fact that we had sex going to be a problem for you, Steve? Because I won’t tolerate you thinking you have any right to look down on me, or treat me as anything other than your boss.”

Steve thought about it for a moment and did what anyone would do: shook his head. “No, of course not,” he answered firmly. “I don’t have any other questions. Just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll get it done.”

She liked that. Steve knew because she smiled the same way she had at the bar the night before. When she handed him a stack of files and directed him to the computer, however, the feeling of success that came with pleasing her kind of drained right out of him. The system wasn’t hard to use or anything, but he was supposed to review all fifteen case files in detail, and then follow up with each client to make sure they had an appointment in the next week. Right. He could do that.

It turned out that talking to the victims was more difficult than he’d expected. Some of them were very grateful that he was calling and rushed to rearrange their schedules to fit in an appointment with Natasha—and Steve told them to take it easy, that they’d work it out. There were others who were very frazzled and even a few who started to cry. He thought those were the worst, and Steve did whatever he could to let them know it would be okay… But he proved himself wrong on the last three phone calls he had to make. Children. He only realized it when he asked for a Thomas only to be told that he was at _school_ and… oh. He spoke to the boy’s mother instead, explained who he was and why he was calling, and she told him very quietly when they could make an appointment.

By the time lunch came, Steve was about ready to get the hell out of there and take a few deep gulps of fresh air. There was a part of him still reeling from the fact that a woman who’d seen him naked, a woman who’s lips had been on his dick, a woman who’d had her legs wrapped around him the night before… was now his boss. And then there was another part of him that was emotionally drained from all the files he’d read and the people he’d spoken to.

Grabbing his jacket, he made his way to Natasha’s office and knocked before poking his head inside. “I’m going to grab lunch,” he informed her. “Do you want anything, while I’m out?”

The look she gave him was just this side of murderous and Steve had the good sense to be afraid, but he stuck to his guns. He was just trying to be helpful. “Cobb salad, no eggs,” she said simply, waving him off so she could turn back to her computer and the papers spread out over her desk.

Well. Dismissed, Steve left the office and pulled his jacket on, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way out of the building to find a… a Cobb salad. No eggs. As he sat outside a small café with a cup of coffee and a burger, Natasha’s salad on standby so it would be nice and fresh by the time he left, Steve tried to consider what he was up against here.

He’d slept with his boss. Sure, he hadn’t known she was his boss, but still! Weren’t things going to get awfully complicated should they ever want to do it again? Then again, maybe he wasn’t good enough to want again? Well, that was a sobering thought. Finishing up his lunch and vowing to bring his own from home whenever he could because the prices in Midtown were ridiculous, he signaled for the salad and paid, heading back to the office with high spirits.

He was even smiling--- until he stepped into Natasha’s office again and proudly set her salad down on her desk, fork and napkins included. “Here you go,” he announced. “Cobb salad, no eggs.”

Natasha glanced at the offering for a moment before peering up at him, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in a silent judgment she was about to voice in (most likely) the most venomous way possible. “Are you planning on sitting here and watching me eat?”

Steve frowned. A ‘thank you’ would have been nice. “No,” he answered slowly. “I guess I’m not.” Turning around, he headed back out of the office and sat at his desk, ready to busy himself with getting to know the rest of his job- court appointments, paperwork, and nasty visits from defense attorneys, who all looked like sleazy car salesmen, as far as he was concerned. He supposed that had to do with the fact that they were representing the scum of the Earth.

Mid-afternoon, Natasha came out of her office at last and let a heavy folder fall onto Steve’s desk with a loud thud. “Um, can I help you?” he tried, looking up at her. She didn’t find it funny.

“This is the case file for Charlotte Evans,” she explained. “I suggest you get _very_ well acquainted with it because you’re going to be hearing about her a lot.” Steve glanced down at the file and nodded, gingerly toying with the worn corner. “Also, redo the file itself so it’s nice and neat. Have that on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

She didn’t give him a chance to protest or ask questions this time. By the time he left that night, Steve’s face was drawn and he was starting to think that reading about stalking victims and rape victims and whatnot should have been in the job description. Again, he poked his head into her office.

“Aren’t you going home?”

Natasha didn’t even turn to look at him. “I’ll stay a while longer. You go ahead.”

Steve was under the impression that lawyers took advantage of not having to work long hours, but apparently she was different… or this was a rare occurrence. “Okay,” he answered. “Good night.”

He was halfway out the door when he heard her speak up again. “Not a bad first day, Steve,” she said evenly, eyes still on her computer screen. “Let’s see if you can do better tomorrow.”

Stupid as it might seem, Steve left with a little pep in his step and returned the next day ready to prove that he could do this. He wasn’t going to back down from a challenge. The days passed in a flurry of telephone calls, both incoming and outgoing, several long days of court dates and pushing everything back, four fights with defense attorneys once Steve had read up on the law and what he was supposed to be giving them, and three fights with prospective clients that he’d eyed the moment they arrived without an appointment. Even though Natasha agreed to see them for brief interviews, Steve remained standing and ready to throw them out if necessary—and on one occasion, it was. Natasha buzzed him to escort Mr. Harris out and Steve complied as usual, taking the guy by his arm and making sure he not only exited the floor, but exited the building as well.

Natasha remained… cold. First of all, she stayed late _every_ night. Second of all, she was really nothing like the playful, slightly dangerous woman he’d had in bed that one night. Aside from his heavy workload, she also asked him to get her coffee and lunch on more than one occasion, fetch her dry cleaning, call to reschedule hair and nail appointments, arrange for her office to be painted, and on one memorable night, she called him _while he was in class_ because she needed to get to a client’s house right away and he had to drive her. And third of all, she almost never told him whether or not he was doing a good job. Steve just kind of figured that if he still had a job, he was doing fine.

Boss from hell? Maybe not quite, but she got frighteningly close sometimes.

It was also her attitude that meant he was not _overwhelmingly_ tempted to touch her ass sometimes, or kiss her neck, or find out what her heels would feel like digging into his back. Natasha was beautiful, though. No matter what came out of her mouth, she was stunning to look at and by the time the weather got _really_ cold, she’d been the focus of more than one of Steve’s assignments for school. But he never, ever made a move, he never got too close, and he never looked too long. Steve wasn’t going to be the creepy guy at work, okay? He had morals.

Also, his Christmas bonus was insane.

He'd used some of it to pick out a Christmas gift for Natasha, since she was his boss and everything. After quite some deliberation and a shopping trip that ended with a trip to a bar because the crowds were driving him crazy, Steve had decided on a delicate, vintage cameo necklace. He hadn't intended to get her jewelry, just in case it sent the wrong message, but it reminded him of her-- aloof, cold, and beautiful. He left the box on her desk with a little note- 'Thanks for being a great boss. Merry Christmas! From, Steve.' Natasha didn't actually say anything about it, but he figured she appreciated it.

The straw that broke Steve’s back, however, came on Christmas Eve. He didn’t have any family, but he’d invited his best friend over for pasta and a shitty holiday movie thinking that he might get to relax. It would seem that such a thing wasn’t in the cards for him- at least, not all night. His phone began vibrating on the coffee table when they were halfway through _The Holiday_ and discussing whether or not Kate Winslet was so much better than Cameron Diaz.

“Who the fuck is calling you on Christmas Eve?” Bucky asked him from where he was slumped over on his side of the couch, beer in hand.

Steve shrugged and let it go the first time, but when it rang again… well, he just had this feeling. Sure enough, he picked it up and Natasha’s name lit up his screen. No way. “Hello?”

“Don’t ever make me call you twice again,” she started. Not a ‘hello’, not a ‘sorry’, not even a ‘Merry Christmas, Steve’. He was kind of livid. “I need you to come to my place right away, and I need you to pick up two bottles of wine before you get here.”

She had to be kidding. “With all due respect, ma’am,” he tried. “It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m—“

“I need you to do this,” she interrupted. By this time, Bucky was sitting up and frowning in concern, even going so far as to mute the television. “If you’re not here in half an hour, you’re fired.” And the line went dead.

Steve stared at the phone for a long time after that, pressing his lips together in annoyance. Now, he had two options. He could ignore what she wanted, stay right there with Bucky, and enjoy the rest of his Christmas knowing he had to go look for another job… or he could knuckle under and do what she wanted. “Is that the one you’ve been complaining about?” Steve nodded and sighed, pushing a hand through his hair.

“I have to go,” he mumbled, standing up. “Duty calls.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and stood up as well, going so far as to follow Steve into his bedroom while the blond pulled on a clean long sleeved shirt and grabbed his jacket. He wasn’t going to fucking wear a suit to go to her place and give her wine, goddamnit. “On Christmas Eve? Man, she’s really got you by the balls.”

No kidding. “I’ll be back in an hour or two, tops,” he promised, tying a scarf around his neck. “When I get back, I fully intend to pick up this conversation. Kate wins hands down over Cameron.” With Bucky protesting in a huff behind him, Steve left and hopped onto his bike so he could get this over with.

Natasha lived on the Upper East Side in a pristine looking building that came with glass doors and a doorman who asked Steve who he was there to see. “Ms. Romanov,” he said uneasily, toting the two bottles of wine in a bag at his side. He was let in and boarded a shiny elevator to head up to her floor- second from the top, and he shouldn’t have been surprised. Stepping out into a gilded hallway with carpet and mirrored walls, Steve frowned.

Seriously? He was half convinced he had the wrong place until Natasha opened the door and eyed the package he was carrying. “You certainly didn’t rush,” she remarked, taking the bag from him and leaving the door open with an unsaid invitation (or direct command) to come inside. “But you did get the good stuff. Kudos for paying attention.”

“I had plans, you know,” he blurted out, awkwardly standing by the door with his hands in his pockets. “I was in the middle of something.”

“I told you to be available at night,” she shrugged, popping open the first bottle of wine and filling two glasses—two, not one. “Come and have a drink with me.”

Something in her tone told Steve that he didn’t really have a choice. Sighing, he unzipped his coat and stuffed his scarf in his pocket before heading over to her and taking the glass she hadn’t already claimed. “What are we drinking to?” he asked, watching Natasha carefully and noticing for the first time that she was wearing tights and a tshirt- a far cry from her severe business attire or the dress he’d first seen her wearing. And her hair. Her hair was damp and wavy, like she’d just gotten out of the shower. Steve wanted to ask her why _she_ wasn’t celebrating with family, or whether or not she had any friends to hang around with. For the first time since they’d met, he wondered if Natasha might spend all her time at work because she was lonely.

“Let’s drink to better luck next year,” she said, surprising him and raising her glass to clink it against his. They both kind of guzzled down their wine and a moment later, before he’d had a chance to say that he had to get going because he had someone waiting for him, Natasha’s lips were on his and she was working hard to get his stubborn jacket off.

…And Steve didn’t stop her. His mind was racing with what-ifs and but-nos and everything in between, but with Natasha’s hands eagerly undoing his belt, he had little choice but to tug her shirt up and get her bra off in return. They went at it on her couch, Steve kneeling in front of her to return her favor from last time before she pulled him on top of her and rolled a condom onto him in the blink of an eye.

Again, she left long, red lines on his biceps, over the hard muscles in his back and over his chest as well. She even managed to leave marks on his ass from where her nails dug into his skin as she pulled him closer. Collapsing on top of her, Steve panted into Natasha’s neck as he came down from it all. God, that was just as good as the first time. Maybe it was better! Maybe the fact that she’d invited him over on Christmas Eve with the intent of having sex with him again meant that she wasn’t quite the cold, unfeeling person she’d appeared to be over the last few weeks. Maybe she was just lonely! Maybe she just wanted some companionship and he was only one she knew would come. He was thinking that maybe he’d judged her too quickly. Maybe she really did like him---

Natasha patted his arm and Steve got the hint to pull away, slipping out of her and moving to toss the condom into her trash bin. “That was great,” she commented, already pulling her t-shirt back on. “You’re pretty full service, Rogers.”

“Um, thanks?” Steve blinked for a moment before noting that she was… casually padding over to the counter to refill her wine glass and planting herself in front of the television as some shitty holiday movie, not unlike the one he was watching with Bucky, lit up the screen.

“Have fun doing whatever it was you were doing.” She didn’t refill his glass. Steve felt vaguely like he’d been duped, or possibly tricked into being a hooker for a night.

It wasn’t until he’d mumbled a goodbye and was standing in the elevator again that he realized he was pissed. How… What… Did she have no respect for other people? None at all? Had working in her field for so many years just made her this numb, uncaring, disrespectful, jaded robot? He was angry the whole way home and even Bucky’s jokes as they slowly got more and more drunk on the couch together didn’t make him feel that much better.

He decided that he would enjoy Christmas as much as humanly possibly, if only to spite her somehow, and on the 26th he would tell her that he quit unless she started treating him like a fucking person instead of a slave. Right. He and Bucky had a very nice Christmas together. Steve cooked a nice meal for them: ham, potatoes, and string beans, along with a chocolate cream pie for dessert. They ate, they drank, they exchanged presents, and Bucky passed out on the other side of Steve’s bed like he used to when they were kids. Maybe it wasn’t the most glamorous Christmas ever, but the holidays were supposed to be spent with family and people who loved you- Bucky fit both of those categories just like he always had.

The next day, he showed up to work with _determination_ written all over his face. Steve wasn’t going to be treated like he was somehow less of a person because he was an assistant and he wasn’t going to be used just because Natasha wanted an easy lay. Putting his stuff down, he squared his shoulders and marched right into Natasha’s office with the intention of making damn sure she knew he didn’t appreciate the way she’d been treating him.

“Ma’am,” he said immediately upon opening her door unannounced. “We need to ta—“

Steve stopped there, glancing from a still severe looking Natasha sitting on one chair to the young boy, around seventeen, sitting on the other, his face blotchy and red from crying. Oh. The kid looked like he’d been out all night, and he was only dressed in a pair of pajama pants and a tshirt- hardly appropriate for December and with no coat in sight.

“Steve,” Natasha said calmly, sounding more compassionate than he’d ever heard her (and yet somehow still very firm). “Go to the store, and pick up a cup of tea for Robert. Get him a roll too, just a plain roll with butter. You also need to pick up a change of clothing from Bloomingdale’s. Understood?”

Glancing over to the boy again, Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he answered quietly. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be back in a few.”

He left feeling like he’d walked into something _very_ private. Grabbing his jacket, he did exactly as he was told to and picked up a change of clothing for the kid- everything from underwear and thick socks to boots, a warm sweater, and a jacket. Once he had the tea and the roll as well, he headed back and knocked before he entered Natasha’s office. The boy looked up and he looked frightened, and Steve felt terrible for marching in the way he had before.

“Here we go,” he soldiered on, putting the breakfast on Natasha’s desk and the bag of clothing on the chair beside the boy. “I hope everything fits alright.”

Natasha looked up from where she was filling out paperwork on her desk and nodded. “Thank you,” she offered. “Robert? Would you mind going with Steve so he can show you to the bathroom? Just tell me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Robert looked from Natasha to Steve and down to the floor before shrugging and standing up. The way he rubbed at his skinny arms made Steve’s chest tighten. His heart went out to the kid, for whatever it was that he’d gone through. He grabbed the bag of clothing and held the door for Robert, briefly looking back to Natasha because he was thrown off by how _gentle_ she was about all this. It was like she was a different person and he wondered how one woman could be so many vastly different things.

“Here’s the bathroom,” Steve announced, opening that door for Robert as well. “I’ll be right outside, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” The kid took the offered bag and nodded again, stepping into the bathroom to get changed and muttering a little ‘thank you’ that made Steve want to hug him even though that was a very bad idea.

He waited. Eventually, Robert came out with his dirty clothes shoved into the bag and wearing the ones Steve picked out- though he was kind of swimming in the sweater. “Let’s get you back to, uh…” What did the kid call her? Was this a client or someone she knew?

Robert raised his eyebrows and peered up at Steve. “Ms. Tasha,” he filled in.

Steve blinked and nodded quickly. “Right. Let’s get you back to Ms. Tasha.”

When they returned, Natasha was standing up and speaking rapid fire into her cell phone. Steve cleared his throat and hesitantly laid a hand on Robert’s upper back out of habit more than anything else. “Ma’am?” he tried. “Where do you—“

Natasha turned and her face went from frightening to soft- Steve suspected that was all for Robert’s benefit. “Can you let him eat at your desk?” she asked. “Make sure he gets something in his stomach.”

Steve nodded and took the breakfast from her desk, escorting Robert back outside and setting him up to eat while he took his usual seat on the other side of the desk. He knew that asking Robert if he was okay would be ridiculous when he so clearly wasn’t, but he also thought it was rude to stay quiet… The question was basically what he could say that wouldn’t sound crass or rude or awful.

“How long have you been working for Ms. Tasha?”

Robert beat him to the punch and Steve was grateful for it. “Just a few weeks,” he explained. “I started about two weeks after Halloween.”

The kid nodded as he picked at the roll in front of him, swallowing down little pieces one at a time. “Do you like it here?”

Steve wondered if Robert had spent much time getting to know the other people who’d worked as Natasha’s personal assistant. It seemed like he was awfully comfortable right where he was. “I do, yeah,” he admitted, leaning back and rubbing at his jaw.

“Do you like Ms. Tasha?” Robert had brown eyes- big, deep brown eyes that peered up at Steve with a curiosity that was definitely going to get him into trouble one of these days.

\--And quite honestly, Steve didn’t know how to answer that question. “She’s really smart,” he blurted out. “And she helps a lot of people. So, yeah, I guess I like her…”

Robert made a face and Steve, for one reason or another, felt his own face heat up. Like this kid knew that he’d slept with Natasha just two days ago and thought about sleeping with her several times between that and the first time. “How do you know her?”

Fuck. And he’d just told himself not to ask that question. The boy made another face and turned his attention to his roll, but a moment later his gaze was on Steve again, and he didn’t look away. “I found her when I was ten,” he explained, firm and even like he wanted to get Steve’s reaction. “I looked through the phone book for a lawyer and found her number, so I wrote it down and I kept it. And then when… I came home and the house was locked, I waited until it got dark and called her. She came to get me.”

This Natasha? His boss. His boss, who was kind of evil? “Oh?” he asked, trying to encourage him to say more. Call him nosy, but Steve really wanted to know more about what Natasha had done for this kid.

Robert nodded, gulping down his tea and shoving another bite of his roll into his mouth. “She said I could always come here. And she’s gonna try to make sure my dad can’t find me. He’s kind of a big shot, but she said she’d get him for good.” He shook his head. “It’s only when he drinks, but that’s most of the time.”

Oh. Wow. “You’re in good hands,” he said. “You know, I know how you feel. I, uh… went through something similar when I was a kid.”

The kid’s ears perked up at that and he stared over the desk at Steve. “Yeah?”

Steve leaned forward so they could speak quietly- not everyone in the office needed to know his personal history. “My dad liked to drink,” he explained. “And he liked to hit my mom. Died when I was twelve and I remember feeling so guilty that the first thought I had was that my mom was safe now.”

Robert nodded like he understood and opened his mouth to ask another question when Natasha came out and made them both jump. “I’m going to have my friend come and take you to my house for tonight,” she explained to Robert. “And tomorrow, we’re going to see about getting you emancipation from your parents, so you don’t have to live with them anymore. Okay?”

Steve was left wondering how on Earth she could expect a kid to support himself and live all on his own, but his eyes slid down to the case file she’d set down on his desk in order to accept a hug from the kid and he frowned at how thick it was, how dog-eared the pages were, like she’d gone over it a thousand times trying to figure out a way to get Robert away from his father. If living on his own got him out of that bad situation, he was all for it. Plus, he had a sneaking suspicion that Natasha would be more involved in getting him settled out there on his own than she would ever let on.

“Thank you,” he heard the boy say, and Natasha’s arms tightened around him a little bit as she rubbed his back. “I swear I’ll repay you.”

She shook her head and even kissed his cheek before pulling away. “Don’t worry about it,” she assured him. “We’ll get you taken care of, I promise.” Soon enough, Steve’s phone buzzed and said that Natasha’s car was there- to take Robert back to her place. He said they’d come down and once Robert had said goodbye to Natasha, he escorted the kid downstairs where a sleek black car and a handsome man were waiting.

“You must be Steve,” he greeted, and Steve raised his eyebrows. “She talks about you a lot. I think you’re a keeper.”

Steve had to know. “And you are…?”

The guy pouted and shook his head. “You mean she’s never said a word about me?” he whined. “Figures.” He stuck out his hand and Steve took it, giving it a firm shake. “Clint. I’m her best friend. Her one and only friend, really, but you get the picture.” Winking, he finally turned to greet Robert and opened the door for him—and a moment later, they were gone.

Interesting. So Natasha did have friends—or _a_ friend, at least—and that friend happened to be pretty warm and friendly. Of course, he was back to thinking about the fact that apparently Natasha talked about him a lot by the time he was back in the elevator. The fact that she talked about him at all was already kind of strange, but to have someone say that she talked about him a lot was just this side of totally shocking.

When he arrived back on their floor, Natasha’s door was closed as usual and Steve wondered if he might just go on about his day pretending that he hadn’t seen Natasha have a heart. He was going to try. Sitting down at his desk, he began going about his usual routine- phone calls, follow ups, and so on. He was left undisturbed for a total of ten minutes before Natasha buzzed him and asked to see him, addressing him as ‘Mr. Rogers’, which just made Steve want to laugh despite the churning of his stomach.

“You rang?” he mused as he stepped into her office, closing the door behind him.

Natasha was seated on the edge of her desk again, arms crossed over a tight burgundy sweater that Steve kind of wanted to peel off right away. “I wanted to address any questions you might have,” she offered, and he thought it was pretty big of her to do so.

“Who said I had questions?” he shot back, watching her carefully for any kind of chink in the armor that had gone back up while he was taking Robert to the car. “You obviously care a lot about that kid, and I admire you for what you’re doing to help him.” Ah, honesty. It was definitely worth the look on her face. “To be honest, I wish I’d seen that side of you before today.”

She was quiet and, while it was usually a sign of impending doom, Steve soldiered on without pausing for too long. “See, I was ready to come in here and quit,” he announced, so beyond flabbergasted with her that maintaining professionalism at the moment was impossible. “I mean, I can handle the moods and the commands and you never, ever thanking me for what I do, but I can’t handle being used as a kind of door-to-door escort service. So I was going to quit, because I’d rather find another job than work for someone like you.”

Silence. Steve’s face was a stern mask for a few seconds, just to make her nervous. A moment later, he smiled and shrugged. “But you’re not the person I thought you were. So I’m staying.”

More silence. Steve offered a polite smile and inclined his head. “Ma’am,” he added. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

Natasha said almost nothing to him for the next five days. But she _did_ say ‘good morning’ when she first saw him, and she answered his goodbyes with simple ‘good night’s. She said ‘thank you’ each and every time he put something on her desk or got into contact with someone she needed. She said ‘please’ when she buzzed him instead of just barking orders. It was a welcome, yet entirely strange, progression in some ways, but there was a part of Steve that almost missed the way she'd demand things from him. It was like there was an element of their relationship that was missing.

New Year’s Eve was upon them in no time and Steve worked a full day before heading out, bidding Natasha a good night as always. But he didn’t have plans that night. Bucky was off to some party with some little brunette he met a few weeks ago, so Steve was left to watch the ball drop from his sofa, sketchbook in hand. And for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about Natasha. He had heard from various sources that Robert had stayed with her for two days before she got everything expedited and settled, eventually putting him up in a small apartment near the Village. Steve suspected that it was not government funded. The fact that his boss had gone through all that for a kid who had no means to ever pay her for her services, and do so in such a way that no one knew about it, cemented the fact that she was just a guarded person, not a cruel one. It made all the difference in the world.

He wondered if Natasha was at a party, maybe even with that Clint guy, or if she was sitting at home and pretending that she wasn’t lonely. He wondered if she was watching the same old celebratory show he was watching. He wondered if she’d also bought herself Chinese food like it was some kind of unwritten New Year’s Eve rule. He wondered if she had anyone to kiss that year, or if there was anyone she wanted to kiss. He didn't have anyone he wanted to kiss. ...Or did he?

See, the thing was that Steve had been so busy being totally turned off by how callous and brash she was that he hadn't quite come to terms with the fact that he was irrevocably attracted to Natasha. And it wasn't just her looks, either. He _loved_ that she was so intelligent, and he loved that she helped people who probably felt like they had no one in their corner. She fought for helpless victims, people who were attacked with no motive other than revenge, cruelty, and power. Steve admired that about her. He admired her for what she'd done for Robert too, and he suspected that if he bothered to look into her past cases, he'd find a lot more to love about her. Now that he knew a little bit more about who she really was, it was easy to see that he wanted to know  _more_.  

It was a quarter past eleven by the time Steve made a rash decision and headed out into the frigid night, hopping right onto his bike to make his way into the city. Traffic aside, he could feel his heart pounding as it got closer and closer to midnight. Just do it. Be a man, Rogers. Take a chance. Getting past Times Square was only possibly because he took the long way around and managed to weave through traffic like the cars couldn't, but it still took him nearly thirty minutes to get where he needed to be. Eventually finding his way to Natasha's building, he parked haphazardly and bolted through the doors, apologizing to the doorman as he ran into the elevator and hit the button for Natasha's floor.

She would want him. Right? She did want him. She'd wanted him that night at the bar, and she wanted him at Christmas... She'd want him this time and if she didn't, he'd leave with his head hanging in shame and try to get back to normal when they next saw each other at work. Of course, that was assuming that she didn't fire him for attempting... this.

Arriving up there, he knocked on the door and waited, nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Midnight was getting closer and he wanted that to be his excuse of sorts, his reason. That was the reason why he'd left his apartment and the reason why he was there right now, ready to show Natasha---

“Steve? What are you doing here?”

Steve glanced down at Natasha and opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He could hear the television from inside her apartment and he knew they were close to starting the countdown. He could understand why she was looking at him like he was kind of psychotic. He... he could see a very familiar looking necklace hanging around her neck, the cameo resting just over the swell of her breasts.

As the countdown started, Steve could have sworn his heart was beating in time. Five. She was wearing his necklace. Maybe she was at home alone, but she'd made a choice to wear the necklace that he gave her. Four. She was looking at him still, not slamming the door in his face and not yelling at him for being there. Three. He really, really liked her. Attitude and hard times at work aside, he really liked her. Two. She was probably going to kill him for this. One. Or not. Might as well take a shot.

As the crowd screamed in Times Square and on the television alike, Steve stepped forward and looped his arm around Natasha's waist, pulling her close to him and guiding her into a kiss with a gentle hand on her jaw. Her hands fell to his chest and for a moment, he thought she might push him away-- but she didn't. No, her lips opened for him and the whole world fell away in favor of tasting the wine on her tongue and the smirk on her lips. With a little sigh that passed from her to him, Steve knew that this new year was going to be a vast improvement upon the one before it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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